Gwen
by TheTabbieCat
Summary: Isaac holds many a romantic belief about life but he doesn't believe in miracles. This is the beginning of the next chapter in Isaac's life.


I hold many a romantic belief: that life can hold meaning; that a single moment can build character; that true love exists. However, I am more than aware of the side effects this kind of philosophy walks hand in hand with, which is why miracles are not under my list of romantic beliefs. I am in the small minority that get the privilege of experiencing the colour of life and having it stripped away within the first sixteen years of my existence, and when I say I privilege I mean misfortune. My lack of miracles doesn't stop there though, oh no, while figuring out the best way to cope with only four senses and an overwhelming sense of nostalgia fate decided it was time for my best friend to die.

Nostalgia is funny thing, an underrated thing too. You feel bad if someone is feeling low or angry but when someone is feeling nostalgic what can you do? A good friend once told me a little bit of nostalgia was okay, healthy even but only if you planned to get over it and move on at some point. At the time I didn't understand what she meant, I didn't realise that sometimes mentally reliving the past is better than a bleak future but then again for me there wasn't a chance of colour. Or so I thought.

When cancer finally reined victorious and stole from me the little sight I had left I hadn't considered that along with it I would lose Monica. Monica had been my girlfriend once, my always. We promised to always love each other but as that same good friend pointed out when it ended some people don't understand the promises they're making when they make them. But it's possible Monica did understand her promise, she just overestimated herself. It's not an uncommon thing to do, I didn't exactly see eye to eye with this epiphany at the time though, if you'll excuse the pun.

The good friend who seemed to have a habit of forcing epiphanies upon me was named Hazel, and she was the girlfriend or old girlfriend of my dead best friend depending on the way you wanted to look at it, she was also the one who frequently dragged me out into the world. I have a theory that she only did it because she wanted some time where she wouldn't be the one who was fussed over but she'd deny it till the sands of time ran out so I'd never have bothered raising the issue with her.

There was one person I would raise the issue with, ironically though I met her during one of Hazel's many crusades. Hazel had insisted on going to see a new film out, they do these weird versions of films for blind people where they just explain what it happening. In essence I had someone read to me a badly written book for two hours, I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't enjoy them though because then mum would find out and she was finding raising a blind son hard enough as it was. So, after this film had ended I was left standing by the food counter while Hazel did whatever it was she had rushed off to do with the promise of being back as quickly as she could and it was at this point that I first met Gwen.

"Could you tell you point me in the direction of screen three?" Her voice asked from what felt like an uncomfortable close distance for a stranger to be standing. By now I'd managed to squash the habit of jumping when people's voices suddenly appeared out of no where, though my younger brother George thought this was one of my more annoying developments, it had come in handy quite often.

"No, sorry I don't work here." I told her, this ended up happening quite a lot when I came here. Apparently, if you hover by the counter often enough people just presume you've been put there for their uses.

"Oh... I umm... I know but I'm meant to be meeting someone." She said, "I'd really appreciate it if you could just point me in the right direction." She told me and I instinctively felt guilty, she thought I was just being moody. I rubbed at the back of my neck and turned toward the side the voice was coming from.

"I'm sorry but I literally can't tell you... I'm a little lacking in the eyesight department." I told her figuring this would end the conversation quickly enough. It wasn't that I had anything against talking to new people but on my own when I wasn't even sure how many people were with her or who I was talking to I didn't feel particularly comfortable.

"You mean you're... oh god, I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed, I wondered if people were watching us her reaction had been loud enough to warrant it.

I sighed, this kind of reaction was getting overly repetitive. "It's fin-" I started but felt her hand on my arm, it was only there for a second or so and I'm pretty sure it was meant to be comforting but it took me off guard. People don't tend to touch me, I guess it's because I can't see it coming or something but I had to admit I couldn't help but smile when she did it. "It really is fine." A bold streak of confidence lead me to place my hand over hers for a second, intending to lend her some comfort. "Look, my friend will be back in a minute and I'm sure she can send you in the right direction."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course." I couldn't help but let out the small chuckle, she sounded so nervous more nervous than I was and she could tell exactly what was going on.

"Are you laughing at me?" The question left me chewing the side of my cheek, would saying yes be offensive? I didn't mean it in a harsh way just that it was kind of cute but I was in no position to say that to her. "... you are..." Sounded so deflated and I started to panic.

"No.. no... not at you! You just seem so nervous and I'm usually the nervous one lately and-... now you're laughing at me." I smiled though because this meant she wasn't angry. I decided to use this to my advantage. "Since you're laughing at me can I at least know your name?"

"Gwen." I could hear the smile in her voice, I couldn't help but wonder what she looked like. I imagined her as a tall, thin but not too thin, red head with a somewhat English accent who tended to pause a lot when she was nervous or embarrassed. However, later that day I was told in reality Gwen was a 5ft 3", average sized, blonde with a somewhat English accent who tended to pause a lot when she was nervous, embarrassed or just watching me. I found the last part slightly unnerving.

Hazel came back soon after that and sent Gwen on her way but before she left I managed to get her number, she panicked when I asked trying to work out how I would read it if she wrote it down but I assured her having someone read it wouldn't be the end of the world. She made me promise to call her soon and when I made this promise I understood everything it meant and everything that it could mean, I was more than willing to keep it.

I just hoped Gwen won't over estimate herself.


End file.
